The Shampoo is Attacking
by The Werewolf Mage
Summary: Someone's trying to tell Snape a message.  And that message is “WASH YOUR HAIR!”


Title: The Shampoo is Attacking

Summary: Someone's trying to tell Snape a message. And that message is "WASH YOUR HAIR!"

**Note: I love Snape. But I love being horrible to him too. And shampoo and Snape makes for fun. Though I was thinking of having James and Sirius drag him to the lake and washing his hair, I think the students trying to get at their favorite (yeah right) professor is funnier. Though I think I might do James following Snape around under the Invisibility Cloak and narrating his entire day.**

It started at breakfast. Severus Snape, everyone's favorite greasy, bat-like former Death Eater, was enjoying a nice plate of eggs and waiting for an owl to deliver the morning paper. He had done nothing to anyone. Yet.

But someone had done something to him. As he reached for his goblet of pumpkin juice, he narrowed his eyes.

It was not an orange-y liquid. It was a pinkish tinted gel. Which smelled faintly of raspberries.

Gingerly he stuck in finger in the goblet and got a little on his finger. He rubbed it between his fingers and stared down the table, trying to think of who had done it.

But he was sure none of his colleagues had done it. Though he wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to do some kind of joke like that.

Getting to his feet, he forgot about his breakfast, tainted goblet, and paper and instead headed down to his dungeons to get ready for his first class of the day: Hufflepuff first years.

One long, dragging class period later, Snape decided that, instead of hanging around his dungeons for the half hour, which he had free, he headed to the staffroom to thumb through some homework assignments.

There was no one else in there. But on the table sat a basket. A basket filled with hair care products. Scowling at the basket as though it done him a horrible injustice, Snape pulled out his wand and muttered, "_Evanesco!"_

And he was happy to see it go.

He sank down in the nearest empty chair and pulled out the fourth years' homework. Several letter grades, most of them Ds and Ts, Snape put the parchment away and glanced at his watch.

He was due in his dungeons for another class in about three minutes. With a tiny sigh, he got to his feet and left the safety of the staffroom.

But the attempts at making him wash his hair were gone from his mind.

Until he reached the dungeons that was. The sixth year Slytherin and Gryffindor class he was teaching had messed around with his board. And he had a shrewd idea as to who. Instead of working on stress-reducing potions, someone had changed to board to say "Work on Hair Potions. Specifically any that can clean greasy hair. Maybe Snape can try them out on himself."

Waving his wand, Snape cleared the board and turned to address the class.

"So," he began in a voice of deathly calm, "who is the comedian?"

When no one answered him, he stared them all down individually. No one flinched or gave any other sign that it was them who had done it. He waved his wand again and the real potion and real instructions appeared on the board.

"Get to work."

Instead of prowling between the rows of desks and cauldrons, he sat at his desk, eying each student. But they were working calmly and all seemed well-behaved.

Of course, he wasn't expecting a Slytherin to have done it, but he couldn't have been so sure.

But he did not hear a chuckle, a titter, or any other laughing sound. Beginning to suspect that none of them had noticed the remarks on the board, Snape wondered if someone had sneaked into the dungeon and changed the board and left before he had returned.

It did seem possible. It might have been that annoying poltergeist. It made sense. Sort of.

Something, be it his anger at what was written on the board or something else entirely, made the students very well-behaved that lesson. Each delivered a potion sample to him at the end of class and he had to tell no one off for speaking or goofing off.

Maybe whoever it was that was trying to get him to wash his hair had given up. Or would give him.

But no, they did not. Snape spent a few careful minutes in his dungeon after the students had left.

He headed towards the door, vaguely wondering what the House Elves had made for lunch, when it happened. A large wooden bucket had been perched atop the dungeon door. And it was filled to the brim with that raspberry-scented shampoo.

And it landed right on Snape's greasy head. Furious, Snape shook his hair out of his face, sending globs of the pink shampoo flying everywhere.

Whoever had planned this had won. For a few minutes later, Severus Snape wound up washing his hair. And smelled like raspberries for the rest of the week.


End file.
